


énouement

by pelele



Series: obscure sorrows [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti Newtina, Background Relationships, Background Theseus Scamander/Leta Lestrange, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Introspection, Lists, Mornings, Newt thinks about her and realizes they have nothing in common but just in case, One-Shot, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Slice of Life, Unconventional Format, it’s also sad in some parts, it’s mostly mindless fluff, kinda not really sorta ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pelele/pseuds/pelele
Summary: énouement: the bitter sweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.┅┅┅┅or, a list, about a morning in the Scamander household, and the sounds in it





	énouement

**Author's Note:**

> so over at tumblr, @thebeastswrite honored my request of an excellent Jerry/Newt ficlet, for which I offered my soul. or a fic. they probably thought I was joking.
> 
> this was going to be smut, but my incapacity to write it came to me all of a sudden, so I offer mindless Scamander family cuteness.

* * *

  1. **Quills scratching on paper**  
(Newt is used to staying up far past what he should, used to burying himself in his notes and studies about creatures, that he looses track of time and the rising sun catches him off guard. It is easy for him to do so, immerse himself in the magic and wonders of the beasts, the patterns of their manners and behavior, and he does so with joy. Tina Goldstein is no Lethifold or Kappa, there is _nothing_ to her that suggests patterns, he cannot get a hold of what goes on in her mind, how to react to her actions or decipher what she will do next, and Newt empties three ink pots and destroys an innumerable amount of paper in his attempts to answer to her letter. It has been four weeks now, and the paper, full of slanted, cursive writing burns a hole into the cabinet of the desk it was shoved into. It would be improper to not answer, and Newt does not know how Tina will react if he does not. He is _angry_ at her, for writing to him, angry at himself, for making foolhardy and sentimental promises to personally deliver his book. Her letter is polite and precise, as cold and distant as two strangers writing to one another. It is awkward and almost painful to read, even for Newt, and he chuckles as he remembers how, when he received the letter, he grabbed it by a corner as if afraid of being contaminated. They know nothing of one another, have nothing to possibly talk about, it is glaringly so. While he doesn’t know if he can say the same for her, his passions to do not lie in her, nor with her. Still, he figures it would only be polite to answer. With a furious huff, Newt crumples up the umpteenth paper, throws it over his shoulder to join the growing pile of its rejected siblings, and tries anew.)

  2. **The chitters and growls of creatures waking up**  
(Eric, the Niffler snores on the pillow, curled up around gold coins and necklaces it has managed to nick from unsuspecting folks. Newt tried to discourage the habit, but Theseus always spoiled the thing rotten, handing him precious trinkets that the old-fashioned pureblood carelessly left behind at times. Above Eric is Swoop, made into his small, protective cocoon and dangling from one of the bed posters. The poor darling is still skittish from what happened in New York, and Newt suspects his constant closing up and unwillingness to let Newt get close to him is due to that. He cannot blame Swoop, with having his poison extracted from him more than once during that trip, then used somewhat like a toy to startle Jacob, and on top of all that Tina _jumping_ on him. So Newt doesn’t scold him, and allows him to eat pig brains more twice rather than once a week, apologetically petting the cocoon and delighting in the weak chitters he receives. While those two sleep peacefully, in Newt’s unlocked case the rest are awakening, or have been for some time. Their sounds— grunts and groans and squeaks and chirps, chitters and squawks and grumbles and purrs— they echo out softly, into Newt’s room, a melody that relaxes him and drives out the earlier tenseness form his shoulders. He marvels at the way they know when to rest, even as the perpetual sunset glows above them in the case. Newt surmises that by now, Calliope, the Nundu is licking at her paws, guarding over her still yawning cubs. He’s in that train of thought when Pickett, forever perched in his habitual place up on his “tree’s” shoulder, lets out a small yawn and stretches, before going to gently press the top of his head to Newt’s cheek, the Bowtruckles’ version of a kiss, while Eric cutely snorts and shuffled around in his sleep, and Newt cannot help but smile.)

  3. **Water splashing on a marble tub**  
(Theseus is visiting home, which means Leta is visiting too. In the months of their approaching marriage, the two have taken to rarely leaving each other’s sides. They never say, but Newt understands, sees the concerned looks Leta gives his brother as the news of Grindelwald and his supporters become louder, more intense. Newt talks to her, sometimes, about his own worries, of the fear that someone from the Ministry will come deliver the terrible news, do nothing to assuage the pain that would come by telling Newt that his brother died a brave man, a hero. He fears Theseus will become just that: another name for the Ministry to laud as a legend, their praise empty in the wake of Newt’s and his family’s suffering. Leta never says anything when he tells her this, but Newt can hear her cry afterwards, always when Theseus is gone, the pillows doing nothing to smother her heartbreaking sobs. In the still quiet of the house, he can now hear the water run until the tub is full, and then the sloshing and splashes as Leta, undoubtedly as even Theseus doesn’t wake up so early, sits in. Newt thinks about the two of them, Theseus and Leta, finally married and in their home, content with simply being close to each other, no Dark Wizards or trouble of any sort looming near. He thinks about the two of them, in the tub, entangled in each other’s inside the warm water and breathing in the florals scents left by potions and smells. He thinks about how he doesn’t want to think of his brother and future sister-in-law that way. He still thinks about it, Leta laughing as she spells suds into a fake beard, Theseus splashing water until her hair clings to her face like a wet rat, the two laughing like children and it’s better than not thinking at all, and listening to the muted whimpering coming from the bathroom.

  4. **Humming in the kitchen**  
(There are murmurs of a spell behind the wooden door, followed by the clicking of glasses, plates and cutlery floating from cupboards to the table. Maddie’s voice rises through it, a clear, lovely thing. She’s not quite singing, rather humming at times and muttering the occasional word. Newt’s Arabic has never been the best, but he can capture words about milk and pups and days in Darfur, songs Maddie’s picked up from the books he read to her when she was still a tiny thing sitting on his lap, others recounting the folktales that she learned from her grandmother Alazaa. He thinks about what Theseus has told him just last week, of considering taking Maddie out of Hogwarts for the time being, perhaps even send her away with their mother, of the Madame President’s pained warning to be wary of what Grindelwald and his followers could do. Theseus begged him to think about whether they were truly safe in England, and Newt could only think of Maddie, bundled up in her black robes and striped Hufflepuff scarf, her cheeks flushed with glee as she merged in on the Hogwart’s Station. Perhaps he would follow Theseus’ advice, but not before he told Maddie more about Sudan, and the girl who was her mother, just in case, Newt considers. In the kitchen, Leta is singing too, this time in English, and Maddie soon joins in, the two clapping and closing cabinets shut to the beat, until their singing stops as one of the plates falls to the floor as a result of a wavering hand on a wand not meant for it and inexperienced spellcasting, dissolves into breathless laughter at the sudden absurdity of it, and Newt thinks it the loveliest song he has ever heard in his entire life. 

  5. **Doors slamming and curses flinging around**  
(Theseus does not function in the mornings. He never has, and Newt holds it as leverage over his older brother. The fact that the Gryffindor golden boy is a rotten mess in the mornings, stumbling around the house at the not-quite early hours like a revived corpse, was so unbelievable that it never failed in making Newt laughed. Theseus was also as blind as bat during the mornings, refusing to put on the glasses all Scamanders need to have sooner or later, and thus bumping against every possible hard surface around. It’s reminiscent of their holidays and summers back from Hogwarts, when Newt would lie awake in his bed and listen to his family. Father would laugh at whatever Mum was telling, their tones hushed in that way two people who share a joke do. Grandfather would be marching about the house, conversing with some of the portraits who regaled him with memorized tales of old, to which he would answer with a sarcasm so biting it was almost painful. In their room, Theseus would whispers his curses as to not alert their parents of his language, and if he was feeling generous he would rattle off all the terrible things he had heard until Newt himself was a laughing and crying mess on the bed, smothering himself with a pillow as Theseus secretly delighted in seeing his little brother so happy. Newt glances down at his paper and realizes that in his reminiscing, he’s written down some of Theseus’ more… colorful vocabulary. For a rather long time, he muses as to whether he should send this letter to Tina instead. Newt visualizes her indignant reaction— or would most of the slang be lost to her?— and has to bite down on his lip to not burst out laughing. He underlines some particular words he thinks would like to emphasize to her, adds what he would like her to know, before casting a spell and burning the paper mournfully. Perhaps _Miss Goldstein_ wouldn’t like it, but Newt thinks it would’ve made quite the letter.) 

  6. **Soft, kind voices that question**  
(“Are you awake, Papa?”  
  
Maddie’s voice breaks his concentration— not that it was much, but at least Newt has gotten down one measly sentence of his letter, which is his largest progress so far. She stands just outside the room, still wearing her green nightclothes, and her hair is haphazardly tied back, some coils loose and framing her face. The smile she gives him is loving, even it it and her eyes still heavy with sleep, and Newt realizes it is the kindest smile she has given him since he returned from New York. If Swoop has been avoidant and pissy, Maddie was irritable and unwilling to listen to her father about his trip, from which it had taken him longer than either expected to return from. He had missed Yule, one of the few Yules all of them spent together, which angered her the most. What little she did hear only made her more mad, Newt would laugh at her occasional grumbles of dumb Americans and incompetent ex-aurors who shouldn’t be allowed to work, but she had loved knowing about Jacob, and that Frank was back to his home had made her sigh with relief.  
  
Now, she clasps her hands in front of her and gesture to the kitchens, where Leta and Theseus flit back and forth. “You are, and — Merlin, I can’t believe you stayed up all night _again_. Uncle Thes is going to have your head, Papa.” Maddie pauses and regards Newt the with same curiosity she has with the creatures. “What’s that you got?”  
  
“Nothing important,” is the first thing he blurts out. It is the truth, but too vague for her liking. “Just a silly letter I’m writing. Or, trying to write.”  
  
“Well drop that and get changed into something clean. Aunt Leta is making breakfast. And wash your mouth, I can smell you from here.”  
  
Newt suddenly feels the awful taste in his mouth. He sniffs his shirt only to choke and grimace, drawing laughter from Maddie. Had he really been so engrossed in the measly letter that he neglected _bathing_? Maddie giggles again as Newt mimics fainting at the smell, before going off to join Theseus and Leta in the kitchen. Newt places the quill down and stares at the practically empty page, the joyous laughter that emanates from the kitchen and takes up every inch of their home not allowing him to for too long.) 

  7. **The absolute best thing in the world— which is to say, the laughter and happiness on the early winter mornings they’re together**  
(Newt deems himself appropriately cleaned and leaves his room, more than a bit self conscious of his rumpled state and the prominent bags under his eyes. He brushes his hair with his fingers, to gather some semblance of neatness, and gives up at untangling the knots that have formed. In the kitchen, Maddie sits at the table, drowsily slathering honey on a piece of bread. Leta and Theseus are standing, huddled together in a corner near the sink and laughing in low tones, each hand holding a mug of freshly made tea in one hand, the perfect picture of love. Theseus says something that makes her shake her head with a smile, and Leta — her eyes a red-rimmed, puffy like she’s been crying — wraps their fingers together, the rings they wear glinting. Newt watches them from the doorway, the domestic picture they make together. They look like a proper family. In this light, Maddie even _looks_ like Leta, even if her skin was fairly darker that her aunt’s, and she didn't have that same look around her eyes. Theseus is the first to notice his presence and turns to face him with a smile that’s a little confused, yet fond. He gestures to the table that’s packed with food.  
  
“Don’t just stand there. We made you _baklava_.”  
  
The kitchen smells like freshly baked goods, bacon and eggs and the mint honey Mum made when the three were kids back at Hogwarts. Breakfast is punctuated by the sounds of jokes and chuckles. Leta steals bacon from Theseus’ plate and snorts in such an undignified way that would make the late Corvus Lestrange keel over. Theseus mutters playfully about ungrateful fiancées and family, kicking Newt below the table, and Maddie chokes on her food at the jokes Newt makes. The sky is clear through the windows, a perfect shade of blue. A fresh and immaculate blanket of snow covers the ground, no slush in sight. Perhaps, the four could go out for a walk, enjoy the crisp winter air, and Newt could show Maddie how to spell snowballs directly at her uncle’s face. They could even convince Leta to use her deadly aim, three-against-one. Yes, he decides as he draws out his wand and spells the door to his room closed, that will be a great way to spend the day.  
  
The letter, and most especially, _Tina Goldstein_ , can handle the wait.) 




**Author's Note:**

> #### énouement
> 
>  _n._ the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world—who your baby sister would become, what your friends would end up doing, where your choices would lead you, exactly when you’d lose the people you took for granted—which is priceless intel that you instinctively want to share with anybody who hadn’t already made the journey, as if there was some part of you who had volunteered to stay behind, who was still stationed at a forgotten outpost somewhere in the past, still eagerly awaiting news from the front.


End file.
